Diminish Poems Christopher Sanderson
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About the author and the writing of Diminish Poems On a road between my home and my workplace. On a drive of one and three quarter hours. On a journey filled with beauty and repetition. On a thought-path of ease and distraction. On a morning when mornings are dark. On an evening when evenings are dark. On a timeline. On a continuum from engineer to provider to poet. On a chord of restitution. On a thankfulness for love. On a wavelength of one.
Christopher Sanderson
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Contents Gone & probably forgotten .......................................................5 Frost ................................................................................................6 Shaky ..............................................................................................7 Lost sight of all alone ................................................................9 Enchantment................................................................................ 10 Skeletal......................................................................................... 12 Soft Porn...................................................................................... 13 Š Christopher Sanderson - November 2012
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Gone & probably forgotten There was dreaming
On the rough strewn edges Of three times tired awakening
As I journey Beneath the dark tunnel of tree arches
Even with The accompanying slight air of Grieg
I am unable to grasp A single dream borne quote
There was reasoning
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Frost Always the image That I passed Never quite the image In the viewfinder
Always the girl I should have asked Although to stay Might have been kinder
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Shaky At such times as these I can cope with Only one poets words
Not even the many Translated metaphors Of that fine man Neruda Can be caught in the cup Of my unsteady hands
The race it seems is on Too early for contemplation Too late for strong liquor The bathtub soon brings The blood to a boil, the skin Akin to waves of loose undulations
The country singers are mournful Strains float in with the steam Nobody holds me Nobody knows me, nobody knows me 7
Like my baby I read these words, read and Trip over the irregular spaces Fall through tiny gaps and spaces Where moorland peonies crawled Between the landlocked granite boulders
Nobody holds me There once was a time When you did love me
There once was a time When you did love me In our search for love
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Lost sight of all alone In this fog I do not drive so fast As to catch the cars ahead In this fog I do not drive so slow As to be caught by the cars behind In this fog I am alone Forests, lakes, ravines, raccoons To my side
Who knows how alone Mountains, cliff edges, tigers Beside which I ride I have fought Do you fight I steer away from alone Not for me the hermits life Enough that I find my way home Through this fog
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Enchantment Passed the broken silver birch, on this The day of the sorcerer’s apprentice When the snow fell; the snow falls still Work bound traffic turns for home
Children roll up balls, kick the snow In their multi-coloured wellingtons Today it is fine to use the mobile phone Car drivers are unable to hurry
The first layer, as fine as a gossamer A silk worms vest; piccolo or flute plays It feels as if spring - beyond the ice grip A layer of cotton, thermal in construction
The oboe or bassoon, a vestige of winter At the roundabout to Lincoln Central A wrap of wool, quilted thick insulation Muffled drums of echoed percussion
Dreamer’s dream of oil filled lanterns 10
Wave after wave of the Aurora Borealis Three hours on the road & the petrol tank says It is low to empty, the traction light is flashing
Snow continues to fall, traffic queues grow longer The city is overwhelmed, all entrances are taken Chaos theory floats in on the snowflakes, as if The world waits, for the return of his master’s voice
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Skeletal Count if you will; or Simply reassemble The leaves on that tree, as Ordinary breaths to breathe
Laces tied, shirts buttoned Picture books, poems Comics to the stables As if to make a sense, or
Smell the roses; that we Should at best Make amends, be Thankful at the table
Count if you will, or Rather disassemble The life that we built Among breaths received
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Soft Porn Thoughts of fuller fruits That flower in past, present & future consummations
It would be indiscrete To let you meet these Occasions more clear
Without fear I can Say; you would not stay, nor Want of them to last forever
I placed my pensive palms Down inside the lace topped Purple-hearted panties
Whisper O fuck, let me kiss free Those once fastidious lips
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